


A Kitten to Build a Dream On

by MonikaFileFan



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, Pining, Post-Episode: s05e04 Detour, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:14:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22843105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonikaFileFan/pseuds/MonikaFileFan
Summary: Mulder finds a kitten on his way to work, but he's running late for a meeting with Skinner, so he has to take it with him to the office. A day of adorable feline chaos ensues.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 30
Kudos: 143
Collections: X-Files Fluff Fanfic Exchange (2020)





	A Kitten to Build a Dream On

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SlippinMickeys](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlippinMickeys/gifts).



> Ahhh, Kasey, I’m crossing my fingers that this is what you were hoping for. Kitten fluff is coming your way☺️
> 
> Thank you so much to my beta’s @alienqueequeg, @admiralty, and @Fragilevixen for your advice.

“ _You’ll love the feel of my soft velvet fur._

_You’ll love the sound of my rumbling purr._

_Once I have loved you, you’ll never look back._

_I am the reason for this._

_I am the black cat.”_

_-unknown_

**  
——  
  
8:58 AM: **A gust of crisp, October air dapples Mulder’s face with rainwater as he hurries through the slick DC streets. The obscenely long line at the local coffeehouse has him running late for the meeting with Skinner. The meeting Scully had specifically reminded him not to “forget” to attend while tossing him a knowing look as she left the office last night. 

_“And it’s your turn to for the coffee, Mulder. Don’t forget that either, please,”_ she’d added as she sauntered out the door. 

For once, he is listening. He’s been doing a lot more of that lately; especially since her remission. And judging by the increase of soft touches and not-so-subtle smirks, he thinks she approves. 

“Mornin’!” A familiar gruff voice catches his attention as he trudges through the mist. 

“Morning, Harold.”

“Hey there, FBI. You in a giving mood on this shitty morning?”

“Well, I do have a meeting I’m running late for that I’d rather skip out on, but I value my steady paycheck enough not to this time.” _And to not receive the Scully Silent Treatment,_ he muses. “But shitty morning or not, you know I could never forget our deal,” Mulder huffs with a wink, fumbling with a wad of change he made by breaking a fifty on two coffees and Scully’s favorite fat free bran muffin. The air in his mouth tastes better than that thing. 

“Ah, so you haven’t kissed that pretty partner of yours yet, I see.” It was a statement not a question. Mulder and Homeless Harold have had a running promise since the day the older man laid claim to the Federal Bean’s cornered overhang. After seeing him and Scully passing by on several occasions, Harold had offered a wager: ten bucks a week until Mulder finally kisses Scully _the way she deserves to be kissed_. 

That was six months ago.

“You know me so well, Harold.” He rolls his eyes, tossing a damp, ten dollar bill in the man’s haggard coffee cup full of change. No matter how many offers are given for a night’s stay at the DC shelter for men, Harold scoffs and turns each one down. 

“I know a stubborn man when I see one. Maybe I’ll be lucky enough to catch your partner again tomorrow morning. It’ll be a sad day if I ever lose that bet,” he grins and rattles the change in his cup. Before Mulder can process what he means by that, Harold nods his head in thanks and laughs. “Better get to that meeting. That wee kitten I saw scampering by earlier had the right idea. You, on the other hand, look like a wet rat.”

Mulder grimaces and shakes the droplets of water from his hair. He walks quickly around the corner and hollers, “Later, Harold” into the wind. 

**9:06 AM:** “Shit!” He stumbles forward, treadless Oxfords sliding along the slick concrete. One coffee flies out of his grasp and splatters on the sidewalk as he struggles to keep his balance. “Damn, there goes my caffeine.” 

He ignores the snickering from the crowd gathering at the crosswalk as he rights himself and adjusts what’s left of breakfast. While wiping off his pant leg, he hears a faint mewling coming from his left. He pauses, eyes narrowing at the water trickling through the gap in the sewage drain, and sees a small black kitten the size of his hand curled up and shivering. 

“Hey, there.” He reaches out a tentative hand and two huge eyes blink up, skeptically, at him. One green and one blue. “Come on, I’ve got a nice nonfat muffin with your name on it,” he beckons. “Tastes like cardboard. You’ll love it.”

It flicks its tail, still hesitant. 

He sighs, about to give up, when the kitten creeps out of the gutter and shakes the water from its onyx fur. A white oval on its sternum and one white ring around its blue eye makes Mulder smile. 

“You look as miserable as I feel.” He scoops the little thing up in his hand and notices there is a thin, pink collar around its neck. “Looks like you belong to someone, huh.” He sees no tag attached and does a quick scan of the streets to see any _Missing Pet_ signs, but sees nothing and no one looking. “I have no time to figure this out,” he groans, looking at his watch. 

After a moment's hesitation, he concedes he’d feel too guilty for putting the cat back where he found it, so Mulder makes the impromptu decision to break some rules today. 

He starts walking with renewed purpose, kitten tucked within his grasp and makes his way to headquarters. “Spooky Mulder finds a black cat on the cusp of a full moon,” he laughs. “Must be kismet.”

It trembles and buries its chilled nose into the warm nook of his jacket. “I know. Let’s get outta this mess and I can show you where other shadowy figures dwell. It’ll be fun,” he adds after a beat. A pep talk for himself rather than the feather-light kitten squirming beneath his palm. 

Oh, who is he kidding? He and Scully were about to get an earful and end up elbow deep in overdue paperwork. The kitten cries out as a gust of wind blows over them and shimmies its way into his oversized jacket pocket. “If the lukewarm coffee and damp muffin don’t win Scully over, maybe you’ll do the trick,” he hopes and rubs his jostling pocket with care. “It’s gonna be a long day.”

**9:16 AM:** The elevator doors ding and Mulder hurries through, the kitten now sleeping, snuggling within his jacket. He can’t help but smile as the heat of it warms his hip. All he has to do is quickly drop the cat off in the office, hope it doesn’t use Scully’s new desk chair as ready-made a nail file, and cross his fingers that he doesn’t get an ass chewing for being fifteen minutes late to a meeting he promised to be early for. 

“Agent Mulder, glad to see you’ve decided to grace us with your presence this morning.”

Mulder spins and stares into the narrowed eyes of AD Skinner. “Sir! Good morning. Uh, sorry I’m running a little late. Had a bit of a hold up this morning.” He lifts the lone coffee and sodden muffin bag, chagrined. 

Skinner presses the fourth floor button and crosses his arms as the doors close. Looks like his side trip to the basement isn’t happening this morning. 

_Dammit!_

“Still raining I see,” he smirks at Mulder’s wet, disheveled hair, smug expression beaming with amusement. “You’re late and you look like shit.”

“What can I say? I aim to please,” he tosses back and hopes the AD isn’t allergic to cat hair. 

“Mmhmm,” Skinner nods to the bag. “Is that for Agent Scully?”

“Yeah, my turn to buy.” 

The number four lights up and the doors ding open. “How is she?”

Mulder knows what he means. “She’s fine. Really. Not just Scully fine, either.”

He hums in approval. Ever since Scully’s cancer went into remission, Walter Skinner has seemed more at ease, like a father relieved after witnessing his children accomplish a milestone. 

Skinner eyes him with deliberation as they walk down the hall. Mulder can tell his boss understands why he did what he did; knows the full meaning behind his risk and desperation to save Scully. His newly realized love for her steadily burns beneath the surface and he knows Skinner can see it, but his boss never speaks of it aloud. And neither will Mulder. 

For now, anyway. Timing is everything.

“Good. That’s good. But what I don’t consider _‘good’_ is me having to leave a meeting already in progress in order to find a senior agent unable to make it to work on time,” he reprimands, even as the smile in the big man’s eyes tells him he’d rather be looking for him than be sitting in that room. A lengthy stretch and a sigh from the small creature in his pocket reminds Mulder he’d rather be anywhere but there, too. “Agent Scully’s already been informed that updated reports on the cases specified need to be turned in by the end of day today.”

“Understood, sir.” The living, breathing being currently shoved into his clothing cannot stay that way all day, he knows. A quick trip to the Human Society at noon is the best he can do. “Lunch break can’t come soon enough,” he mumbles. 

“I don’t foresee a lunch break for either of us today,” Skinner grumbles as he opens the office door and ushers him in. Scully meets his gaze with an “I knew you’d be late” glint in her eye and an amused twitch of her mouth at his ruffled appearance. 

The room holds six other agents and they all ignore his presence. All but Scully, that is. She raises a brow at his obvious lack of umbrella usage but says nothing as he sets the sad looking bag and cup down in front of her. 

She whispers “thanks” as the agent in charge of compiling the case solve rate data speaks. He can feel her watching him as she takes a gulp of her cream, no sugar, freshly ground coffee. 

He carefully lowers himself into the seat next to her, cradling the C-shaped bundle in his lap, and sighs, already exhausted. 

Scully leans in, murmuring, “You fall on your ass and roll in puddle on the way here?”

He grins. “If I did, would you help me ice my bruise later?” 

She licks her lip, eyes focused to the front of the room. “In your dreams, Mulder.”

He pats the now purring bulge curled across his pelvis. “If you only knew…”

**10:15 AM:** The kitten squirms again, rolling around along the silky liner of his jacket pocket. Mulder coughs, readjusting his position, for the sixth time. Scully pays him no mind, just assuming he’s become as restless as a preschooler in church. His usual mandatory meeting behavior. But his fidgeting has caught the attention of the agent sitting across from him which earns him a stern cluck of the tongue and an indignant eye-roll. 

“Ah,” Mulder hisses with a jolt as a sharp nail pops through the material and pokes his thigh. He clears his throat and a size six patent leather heel brushes along his calf, signaling him to be good. It’s a silent message only he could decipher as solidarity in shared boredom. 

Another two pokes and a writhe from the alert, fur-covered cactus, and he bites his tongue. This meeting is literally costing him blood. 

**10:32 AM:** Mulder’s hand has now become a momentary distraction to the clearly teething feline held hostage within his jacket. He starts to panic realizing this thing could meow and give him away any second. He has already attempted to flee to the restroom once when it tried to escape, but Skinner shot him The Look and Scully has asked him three times in the last ten minutes if he’s feeling okay. 

So now, out of patience and options, he holds a paper above the lump between his legs to hide the party taking place beneath it. And being in the middle of a mind-numbing meeting, he can’t even blame the reasoning for his awkward behavior on a more likely occurrence of a sudden Scully-induced boner if he had to. 

“Mulder,” Scully taps his knee with her pen under the table. “What is with you?”

Before he has the chance to confess, Skinner dismisses the other agents and the meeting is finally adjourned. Mulder stands and manages to stuff a curious paw back down before Skinner walks up. 

“I know you two have had your hands full lately, but look, my ass is in a sling here and I need both of yours to stay in the office until these reports are done.” He shoves a stack of files into Mulder’s arms and points to the forgotten muffin bag. “Good thing you’re brown bagging it today, agents. I’ll see you at five.”

“Great,” Scully says with one hand on her hip as they leave the office. Arlene is away from her desk and Mulder knows his partner will not wait for the elevator ride down to question him further. “I have to run to the lab and grab some forms but first, I want an explanation as to what the hell went on in there?”

“Scully, I...”

She’s staring at his chest, looking as if she’s tamping down a rare huff of laughter, and flips his new UFO embroidered tie with a hooked finger. “You’re hiding something and I’d like to know what it is.”

”Shh, I can explain. Let's just go down to—” 

Just then, his furry friend decides it’s bored of shredding the insides of his Armani and pops its fuzzy black head out with a yowl. 

Scully gasps and he holds his breath, watching her baby blues widen in surprise. A slow smile blooms across her lips as she strokes the kitten’s silky head with the back of her fingers. Mulder looks away, attempting to ignore how close her hand is hovering next to his crotch. 

They’re a breath away, her chest grazing his with every inhale. Their eyes meet through her long lashes and his stomach whirls. 

“You rebel.”

**10:55 AM:** Mulder sits at his desk, amused, watching the little puff ball bat around the spilled paper clips littered across the floor. Scully is still not back from the lab yet and he has to admit it’s kind of nice having another living thing in the office that makes him smile.

Samantha had a cat when she was small and the joyful look on her face when Whiskers would hop in her lap and show extra affection for a treat is an image Mulder will always hold onto. But he’s easily forgotten, while searching for truths in the darkness, that something so small and delicate can elicit such a tremendous ease of daily stresses. A lighthearted juxtaposition to this danger laden life’s quest. 

_Potential for a future feline friend? Not out of the realm of extreme possibility._

“Eh! Don’t eat those.” He plops the hyper kitten atop the desk in front of him and pry’s the paper clip from between its thorny teeth. “I don’t know kitty CPR.”

It’s tiny. So innocent and trusting as its little legs toddle across the blotter, playfully pawing at a pink sticky note possessing Scully’s refined scrawl. The message is two weeks old and he can’t stop staring at the elegant way her _S_ loops through his _M_. 

“Yeah, I like her notes, too.”

As its rumbling purrs vibrate through his fingers with a quick nose nuzzle and a needle-like nip, Mulder is reminded that even the most fragile can be fierce. He’s only ever used that analogy once on Scully during her rougher days of battling cancer. And he’d never admit that aloud, of course, if he values his balls as much as he seems to value the safety of this ball of fluff. 

**11:10 AM:** Scully’s heels echo through the basement and Mulder lets out a sigh of relief. Babysitting anything alone that has a mind of its own is hard work for a man who often forgets to feed his fish. 

“Scully!” He sees she’s carrying a small, cardboard box with shredded paper layered along the bottom, a packet of lab results, and a Petri dish. “Quick, shut the door.”

She tosses him a glance before her eyes flick to the source of his morning’s mishaps currently gnawing on a pencil. “So, you really snuck a cat into the meeting and obviously planned to keep it in our office all day long without mentioning to your partner?”

Abashed, he explains, “I found it by the coffeehouse this morning. It was cold and wet so, I don’t know, I felt bad,” he shrugs. “I was planning to take it to the shelter at lunch, but I have a feeling Skinner would lose the few remaining hairs on his head if I ignored another one of his mandatory in-office groundings so soon after the last verbal bitch slap.”

“Oh, I’m certain you and you alone are responsible for our boss’s balding head, Mulder. I, on the other hand, actually try to adhere to the rules.”

He laughs, knowing she’s correct in that assessment. “And anyway, cats are said to be the guardians of the underworld, Scully. They scare off dark spirits and disease. How could I resist?”

Scully sets the box down by a file cabinet and starts filling the Petri dish with water. “You’re saying your harrowing good deed also keeps us safe from the evil that lurks above?”

Winking, he stands by his theory. “For today.”

“Doesn’t that ancient lore refer to _black_ cats as protectors and serpent killers of the night?” Her mouth twitches in amusement as she places the round dish next to the box. “Or do playful Tuxedo kitties still count?”

“Folklore indicates it started with lions, actually, but this furball _is_ black, Scully. Works out for all of us,” he jokes and gives a thumbs up at the can of tuna that appears from her pant’s pocket. 

“I can see from here that it’s a _she_ , and she is not a black cat, Mulder. She’s bicolor.”

He grins, knowing he gets to sit back and listen to his partner pull on the threads of science for him. “You know I love when you get all science-y on me.”

She snorts, tucking a crimson lock behind an ear as said cat takes a daring leap from the desk and darts across the room. “Recessive genes passed down through the bloodline on the X chromosome can result in bicolored and calico cats. I’m no expert on feline genetics, but I can say that this particular kitten is about six to eight weeks old, long-haired, and has Heterochromia—two different eye colors.” 

Roped in by her explanation, he adds, “One green and one blue. Like yours and mine.” 

_Kismet_ , he thinks for the second time this morning. 

Pointing to his eyes and then hers, she continues with a slight flush of the cheeks, caught up in her tale of chromosomal traits. “Her eyes are a genetic glitch in her DNA’s code. A mistake. Unlike ours. Yours are a hazel green. Like moss on a tree, changing colors with your mood or with lights reflection. Mine are...”

“...blue, like the shallows of the sea when you’re thoughtful or relaxed, content,” Mulder easily jumps in, feeling his heart race as her eyes lock onto his, rapt and unblinking. “And they meld into a piercing aquamarine when you’re hurting or passionate about something. I… don’t think the light has anything to do with what I see when I look into them.”

Scully finally blinks, exhaling to gather her thoughts and moves to focus her attention on the reports. “Yeah, like that,” she mumbles and her flush deepens. 

The kitten sniffs dubiously at the makeshift litter box before hopping in. Mulder groans at the mountain of paperwork and pops a sunflower seed in his mouth. 

Five o’clock can’t come soon enough.

**1:36 PM:** Scully excuses herself to the restroom, tossing out their unappetizing Bureau cafeteria lunches as she goes, and he’s left staring at the kitten’s sandpaper tongue—no bigger than a blade of grass drag across its puffy hair again and again. 

“Ugh, you really need to do that on top of the files… cat? You smell like albacore.” He’s not going to name her, he decides. She already has a name and an owner. 

He names her anyway. 

**2:28 PM:** “Enough! Mulder, what’s with the scratching? Do I need to check you for fleas, too?”

“Now we’re talkin, Doc,” Mulder waggles his brow. “It’s just some war wounds from battling Furball in the meeting.” Nodding at the culprit across the room, he tugs on his slacks and hisses when he rubs one of the many nail marks sprinkled along his thigh. “The saying, _no good deed goes unpunished_ is apparently true.”

“You’re not bleeding to death.” Digging through her bag, she tosses him antibacterial ointment and gifts the kitten a tender swipe down its spine. “Go put some on and stop pouting or you’re on your own if Skinner makes an appearance.”

Miffed about that prospect, he palms the ointment and catches Scully grinning ear to ear as he opens the door.

**3:35 PM:** “Hey, Furball! That’s not a scratching post!” Mulder lurches back from the desk but his tie remains tangled within the fish hook teeth of a tiny predator hell bent on destroying its prey. 

Mulder plucks the growly kitten away from the fabric, dethreading the UFO’s stitching with each snag of her claws. “Ahh, come on.”

He could hear Scully chuckling from her chair. “Tough loss. Regretting cohabitating with a cat yet?”

Sighing as he clutches his ruined tie and watches Furball saunter away, bored now, he still can’t say that he does. The day was flying by faster than he could’ve hoped for without her. One litter box cleaning, two ankle biting incidents, and three half-eaten pencils later, Mulder has to admit that he’s been thoroughly amused. 

“Could be worse, I suppose. She could be part of another horde of killer cats scratching their way through a door to claw us to death,” he jokes. 

“Ugh, don’t remind me. That whole case was ridiculous. Besides, she’s sweet.” 

“So far, anyway. I fear for my leather couch almost as much as my fish.”

“Mm,” she hums, tapping a nude-painted nail along her lip in thought. “Your fish…”

“Yeah, in other words, sushi: a cat’s cuisine,” he chortles but realizes that could pose a serious problem if he’s stuck at his place for the night with this adorable little shark. 

“That could be a problem,” she notes, as if reading his mind and looks on as Furball stretches herself across her keyboard. “Well, looks like she chose you to do the addendum on our recent romp through the Florida woods.”

Mulder groans. “Thanks, Furball.”

Scully crinkles her nose. “I hope her owner chose a more fitting name.”

“Probably belongs to an eight-year-old girl obsessed with _My Little Pony_ , so I doubt it.” He takes the file that she’s tauntingly waving in the air and flips it open. “This case was only a month ago and they already want updated details?”

“Would you’ve rather gone to the team building seminar instead?”

Grimacing, he shakes his head. “No, somehow I still think we got a better deal with the Mothmen.”

“I disagree. Shivering and singing lullabies in the dirt isn’t ranked above wine and cheese for me.”

He hums and laces his hands behind his head. “I didn’t mind.”

“Yet you do now. Consider this punishment for your anti-communicative impulsivity,” she tells him mirthfully, happy to pass the task over while graciously opting to not disturb a grooming kitten. 

_Shit, she’s right._

“But,” she adds, almost reluctantly, toying with the pink collar peeking out from the mess of dark fur, “I suppose being forced to spend yet another night hunted by creatures in a forest wasn’t too terrible.”

“Oh?” 

One shoulder shrugs as she quietly says, “I spent it with you.”

 _Oh!_ “Yeah, but I think I was the lucky one.”

A moment passes in a comfortable silence after their admissions. Scully busies herself with tidying her forms, pushing Furball away as she primly shoves her fuzzy butt in his partner’s face. 

Yet, if she were to look over at him instead of actively avoiding his gaze behind a copper curtain of hair, she would undoubtedly see the goofy, love-struck expression currently making his cheeks ache. “And for future reference, Scully, you’re the only one I’d ever want to spend a night in the dirt with.”

**4:22 PM:** Mulder shoos Furball away from her second attempt at scaling his jacket hanging along the back of the chair. “No way, I think you’ve jacked my clothes up enough already.”

“I still can’t believe you managed to hide an animal in your suit, Mulder,” Scully lets a rare giggle escape, and it takes his breath away. **“** Now that’s one thing I never thought I’d hear myself say about you.”

Mulder watches her chew on her lip as the printer whorls and spits out three freshly inked pages. Furball snaps to attention and plops herself near the humming machine, warming her little body along the motor.

“Yeah, I can just imagine the water cooler gossip if she’d jumped out and chewed on someone else’s ankle. Though, they’d probably expect a little green man.”

She scoffs then furrows her brow, considering something. “About your fish, Mulder…”

“Yeah?” He crosses his fingers, selfishly hoping he knows where this is headed. 

“Well, since you try pretty hard already to keep your fish alive—and I’ll admit there are times I’m shocked they’re all still present and accounted for—I can take the kitten home with me tonight, bring it to the Human Society in the morning,” she responsibility offers.

Goddamn, he doesn’t deserve this woman. 

“You mean I rescued the furball and sacrificed my favorite tie for you to get all the credit?” he ribs. 

“Fine.” A smile curls on her lips. She crosses her arms and nods down at his gaudy, kitten-clawed outer space tie, amused. “Since that ‘furball’ did us all a favor, I’m in a welcoming mood. You can ride with me to the pet store tonight and help me get her settled at my place.

He grins and hops up gleefully from the chair. “Ah, Scully. You mean no sleeping bags will be needed?”

She rolls her eyes. “Funny.”

“Would it make a difference if I promised not to shed all over you?” he pleads, pouting at her refusal to accept one more overnight houseguest.

She pauses, seems to take a moment for her thoughts to assemble in an orderly line. “Oh, I don’t know, Mulder. I think that’s already happened.”

Now it’s his turn to send his eyes rolling but grins like a fool. “Consider future dry cleaning bills on me.”

Scully nods once, entertained by his flirting. “This cat-sitting is for one night only, Mulder,” she warns. “Don’t get any ideas of suddenly wanting to keep her. I can just imagine you pawning off an animal that you’ve grown attached to for an excuse to show up on my doorstep at all hours of the night. Your witching hour phone calls suffice just fine.”

“Ouch! Afraid you might get too attached?”

Her chin falls to her chest but her eyes remain dancing between his. “To you, or the cat?”

“Both?”

She reddens, coyly licking her lips, and rocks herself away from the desk. “In your dreams, Mulder. In your dreams.”

_Always._

“Already attached to one of us then, I take it,” he questions, and can’t help but hope the _one_ is him. Then he catches the corners of her mouth curl up wryly behind her hand, and Mulder has his answer. 

**4:48 PM:** He watches her hold the kitten close as its lithe tail curls like ivy around her hand as he finishes with the last report. He doesn’t think she knows he’s watching with the way her eyes focus on two tiny paws kneading the front of her suit. That he’s watching her and not the little life wiggling its way into her heart. 

Suddenly, a flash of Scully cradling a newborn baby to her chest, smoothing wispy, strawberry-colored hair along its porcelain skin replaces reality before him. And in an instant, he feels a fresh wave of hope wash over him. He wants her to have that some day, will do whatever it takes for her to hold that precious love within her arms. Already _is_ doing whatever it takes. Mulder knows deep down there is something more for the woman he has fallen so desperately for. _That_ is something he will always believe in. And maybe, just maybe he will be lucky enough to be by her side when she gets it.

“That looks good on you,” she says. All of a sudden she’s there, leaning against the desk and hovering over him. The kitten—that he’s now come to terms with not going to any shelter tonight—lays limp with exhaustion in her arms. 

He blinks out of his stupor and gives himself a once over. “What does?”

“That dreamy expression plastered on your face.” She smiles, teeth and all, and his heart flutters against his rib cage. “Dare I ask?”

Mulder gazes at her for a moment and watches her tongue glide slowly across her Cupid’s bow. Of all the times he’s watched her do this, this one proves the most difficult to resist finally covering those pouty, rosebud lips with his own. Harold has a point. Scully deserves to be kissed by someone who loves her as much as he does. 

“It’s simple, really,” he starts as a moment of bravery takes hold and receives an arched brow in return. “Because you’re here. You’re Scully.”

Her breath hitches. “I’m always here, Mulder.” 

It’s a fact they both know but feels more like a promise with the way she voices it aloud.

“I know you are, Scully. I know.”

He blinks and she’s a breath away, staring at his mouth and drifting down with her blue eyes gleaming _like the shallows of the sea_. His favorite color.

Her eyes flutter shut and a gush of warm breath tickles his nose. As he leans in—briefly wondering if he’s dreaming, her cushy lips press softly to his and fireworks shoot technicolored heat through his body. 

Before he can reach up to cup her jaw and melt into her the way he has hundreds of times in his mind, a flick from Furball’s tail smooshed between them thwacks his chin and her mouth is gone. 

He sighs, bereft, instantly wanting to kiss her again. To feel the silk touch of her flesh again and again and again. “Wh-what was…” he stumbles, struck mute by her un-Scully like impulsivity. 

“What was that for?” she finishes with color blossoming along the apples of her cheeks. He can only nod and stare speechless at her freshly kissed mouth as she murmurs, “I suppose… because you’re Mulder.” 

The fact that she quotes his own reasoning back leaves him warm and pliant beneath her gaze. “And, uh,” he swallows, mouth suddenly cotton dry. “That’s a good thing?”

She tsks, looks down to the snoozing feline shedding sprigs of hair along the crook of her arm, a resigned smile playing on her lips. “I like it.”

**5:22 PM:** Scully had dropped off the reports to Skinner by five and they make their way to her car incident free with an exhausted kitten in tow. The morning's rain has stopped and the autumn sunset now paints the skyline in a pink glow. The same shade as the collar reminding him that there’s probably someone out there looking forward to seeing their pet again. 

Furball is curled up in a tight little ball along his chest, her nose snuggled beneath the collar of his shirt as contented purrs hum along his skin. While Scully makes the turn down Pennsylvania Ave, Mulder’s nose brushes along a patch of downy fur and he inhales a familiar scent. Sweet, like citrus and vanilla. 

Like Scully. 

“There’s a pet store around the corner. We need to grab kitten chow and litter for the night, then whatever is left over can be donated. And you’re buying.” Scully meets his gaze for a moment before her eyes trail down to his sternum, obviously enjoying the display of domesticity snoring softly over his heart. Mulder catches the tight-lipped smile spreading across her face as she turns her head to park, and he can’t help but feel a strong rush of gratitude for her friendship. 

“Thanks, Scully. I really wouldn’t have made it through the day without you.” 

She nods, “I know,” as the car rolls to a stop in front of the Federal Bean. “Parking is terrible. We’ll have to walk from here.”

He glances out the window and chuckles at a man leaning against the coffeehouse, winking his way: Harold. The sly look on the wise man’s face urges Mulder to plan a stop on their way back.

“Something funny?” Scully turns and pops the collar of his jacket up around Furball’s head to shield her from the nip in the air. Her touch is tender and full of care, loving. And now Mulder’s heartbeat rivals the fluttery one racing above his own. 

“Not a thing.” He pats the vibrating ball wrapped securely in Armani and licks at the tingling memory of her lips touching his. “Let’s go.”

**5:30 PM:** The pet store is bustling with activity. People fresh out of work are zipping down aisles, grabbing bags of food and supplies for their furry companions. When Mulder swings by once a month for a new can of fish food, it’s usually on his lunch break and the sea life aisle is a desolate one. As they wander towards the cat section, a crowd of children who’d broken free from their parent’s grasp appear at his feet. Rambunctious squeals of glee over Furball snuggled along his front surprises him. This is a whole different kind of kitten related chaos. 

Mulder stiffens under the swarm of prodding little hands and exaggerated coos, his panic face in full effect by the time Scully walks up next to him to lend a hand of reassurance. “How’s it feel to be the popular one, Mulder?” Her tone is teasing and her eyes sparkle with delight. 

He cringes and huffs out a laugh. “A lot like a backseat car ride on the way to a team building seminar.”

Scully clucks her tongue and gives his bicep a squeeze as the throng of little ones are called back to their families. “Kids love you, Mulder. Kittens, too.” She nods to Furball, eyes smiling at her petite body clinging to his shirt, wide-eyed and tense. “Come on, lets get what we need and get out.”

“Hungry?” Mulder’s stomach rumbles at the thought of a deep dish smothered in cheese. “I’m starved.” 

Scully eyes the kitten food, studiously reading labels for unwanted additives. Very Scully. “Yes, though something warm to drink would hit the spot.”

“I do owe you a coffee that isn’t wind-blown and rained on, don’t I?”

Amused, she tosses him a look and walks by. “After five years, you owe me more than that.” 

“Touché.” 

They side-step past a man with his curious Jack Russell and its leash tangled around his leg to move on to the next aisle, when a little girl with glossy black braids and a desperate look on her face rounds the corner. 

“Excuse me,” she says, staring up at them with watery brown eyes. She holds a paper with a Polaroid taped to it of her and a tiny, black kitten—its one blue eye and one green beaming widely into the camera lens. The girl is grinning, smooshing her pet against her rich, mocha cheek as its tail winds around her delicate hand. _MISSING KITTY: please call Kasey if found!_ is written in pink marker at the top. “Have you seen my kitty?”

Mulder smiles, knowing he’s likely holding this little girl’s world within his hands. 

Scully gasps and crouches down to her level. “May I?” Studying the photo, she nods and returns it to the hopeful child chewing her lip in front of her. Scully meets his gaze over her shoulder, her face easily matching his happy expression. 

Furball is going home. 

“I believe this furball belongs to you.” Mulder peels the tenacious kitten from his chest and gives her head one last affectionate rub. He can feel Scully’s eyes on him as he holds the wiggly kitten out in a Simba-like offering. 

Kasey’s mouth falls open as a joyous squeal escapes. “That’s her!” She scoops her kitten up and cradles it lovingly to her body, kissing the soft fur of her head. “You found Spooky! Thank you!” 

“Spooky?” Scully stands, grinning wildly, but her focus is solely on him now. “You mean I got to spend the day with two Spookys instead of one? Lucky me.”

He can’t help but laugh at the likelihood of this anomalous occurrence. The odds are X-File worthy. Yet… “There are no coincidences in the world, Scully.”

As little Kasey snickers, snuggling her Spooky, Scully nudges hers with a sigh. “It’s meant to be.” 

“Thank you, thank you,” Kasey breathes through her toothless smile as her mother approaches with a gasp of her own. “Mama, look they found Spooky for me!” 

Her mother thanks them both profusely for their troubles after Mulder explains the harrowing day, making sure to include that he’s deemed Spooky an honorary FBI Agent. That leaves Kasey giggling and showing off her dimples. His heart beats happily through his fur-covered chest knowing at least one child will sleep nightmare free tonight. The reassurance that their day of adorable feline chaos was well worth it; in more ways than one. 

As Mulder watches the three disappear into the crowd, a family reunited, he feels the warmth of his partner’s fingers tangle within his own. “Come on, Mulder, I think spending my evening with one Spooky is all I can handle anyway.” 

**6:00 PM:** Mulder stands next to her in the Federal Bean, shoulders bumping as they make their way through the shop. He watches her lips purse as she blows away her coffee’s rising steam and the thought of kissing her again makes his stomach flip. 

But he is patient. He’d fallen more than a little in love with her years ago. He just never realized it until more recently, even though he has always known in his soul that he’d die without her. 

“She was so happy, Mulder.” Scully taps her cup with his, a look of pride swimming in her eyes. “And you should be, too.” 

“I am. I just… it was fun, right, having another partner in crime down there with us?”

Scully opens the door, a gust of October air swirling tendrils of red like fire in the evening sky. “What, I’m not entertaining enough for you? And besides, Queequeg was never allowed to wreak havoc in your domain.”

Mulder huffs out a cloud of steam as they make their way down the sidewalk. “That thing hated me, Scully.”

“I think the feeling was mutual,” she teases. 

As Mulder opens his mouth in an attempt to express something akin to an apology, Harold makes his presence known. “FBI, I saw you carryin’ that little black kitten I told ya about from this morning.”

“Hello, Harold.” Scully fishes out a wad of cash from her purse and sticks in his cup like a habit. Just like Mulder does. He locks eyes with Harold and watches the man smirk like he has a secret to protect. 

“Thank you, Darlin’. Good to see you again.” 

Mulder nods, “Turns out, she wasn’t a stray, just lost. I found her hiding from the rain.”

Harold tilts his head and hums. “Or she found you.”

Mulder blinks, considering this. He doesn't believe in fate, in some orderly path laid out for him, but he does believe that a road exists for Scully and him to travel together, if only they can navigate it. 

“Kismet,” Scully says, pulling him back into the moment, her blue eyes sparkling under the street lights. It’s downright paranormal how she reads his mind sometimes. “Some good deeds actually _do_ go unpunished.” Her tongue glides slowly across her bottom lip and Jesus, he gulps like a pimple-faced teenager. 

Harold cackles loudly and stops Mulder’s jaw from hitting the pavement. “Breathe, boy.” 

He rolls his eyes—hoping the flush on his cheeks is mistaken for windchill, and quickly shoves a twenty in the man’s cup, settling their deal silently with a nod of finality. Harold’s eyes bulge as it dawns on him that Mulder’s mouth has finally met Scully’s. The fact that Scully had been the one to kiss him is one detail Mulder will surely keep to himself. Unless the money Scully gave Harold indicates he already knows…

“You two have a good night now,” Harold cheers his cup and laughs salaciously. “A _real good_ night.”

Scully hides a smirk behind her coffee cup and brushes past, dangling her keys, beckoning him. “Pizza, Mulder, let’s go.”

“See ya around, Harold,” he mumbles, ushering her towards the car with a hand resting at the small of her back and the ghost of her kiss still lingering along his lips. 

He makes no move to hide his growing smile when the street light shines down upon them, highlighting remnants of gossamer fur along his sleeve where his heart now resides. 

——  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I had so much fun writing this, even though the ending took me forever to actually get down. 🤞I honestly pray I did your prompt justice. 
> 
> Fun fact: my husband wanted me to name this “pocket pussy” since I had such a hard time with the title😆so, be glad i chose otherwise lol. 
> 
> Real Facts: Black cats (and mostly black cats) are the last to be adopted and among the first to be euthanized. They are listed as one of the most loving and sweet natured cats. The bad luck stigma they carry is sadly untrue and quite the opposite. Many believe they bring good luck and good fortune. If you see a black cat cross your path, it just means they’re going somewhere.😉 Please don’t shop. Adopt!


End file.
